Letting Jesus Wash My Feet
A poem on water damage…and learning from our mistakes
It is a Tuesday afternoon, and I am listening to my sump pump turn on and off, getting rid of the water draining from the oversoaked subsoil due to our history of April rainstorms here in eastern Nebraska. If you walk by the stairs to the basement, your nose will pick up a musty scent, that of my carpets slowly drying, and the noise of four dehumidifiers running to help the process along. Every few hours, I go downstairs to vacuum more water out of the carpets and dump the dehumidifiers. This has been a lesson in humility, patience, and grace.
But also one of understanding that, though I will have a price to pay later, I cannot know what that will be until the time comes, and for now I must do what I need to do in the moment until that day does come and the rains dry out. It has been a journey of knowing that I do need help from others (my kids are coming this weekend to help with gutters and moving furniture), and that, though sometimes I forget about God, God does not forget about me. Here is a poem about my experience thus far on this water-filled barefooted walk of working through the darkness of my underworld:
Letting Jesus Wash My Feet
It’s Saturday and May the Fourth
be with you
__________I’m planning on
relaxing at the sewing…
